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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29227833">you'll never walk alone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dabberdees/pseuds/Dabberdees'>Dabberdees</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst heavy, Episode: s04e11 Turn Left, Gen, It is heavily inspired by that episode, Post-Episode: s11e10 The Battle of Ranskoor Av Kolos, Sheffield and Liverpool rights, and it's not the author, one little switch in what happened can have an escalating effect, someone somewhere did a wee little bit of meddling in the timelines, the title has nothing to do with football but all to do with people being alone :)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:33:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,690</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29227833</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dabberdees/pseuds/Dabberdees</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A tiny nudge, a quick change in a determined destiny, can have disastrous consequences for a timeline, splitting it off into a future that only could've happened, but never should've happened.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thirteenth Doctor &amp; Yasmin Khan &amp; Graham O'Brien &amp; Ryan Sinclair</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi, long time no see! The story is one of canon divergence, and I can't say much more up here due to spoilers!</p><p>I hope you enjoy it!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's seven in the morning. Ryan's at work, early morning start, but even if he weren't at work, he would've left the house by now. Either at Tibo's or in the blue box that he can never enter again, driving the terrible mistake he made right back at him like a lorry barreling down the motorway.</p><p>The regret fills his cursed soul. Blinded by rage and hate and revenge and grief, and then judged without mercy, without help, without compassion, berated in front of his family, scolded like a child.</p><p>But then again, did he deserve compassion after what he did? He shot a living sentient creature, murdered it because he could. His hands pause on the hastily packed suitcase to run through his frazzled hair, pulling at the greying strands.</p><p>They hate him, all of them, they can't look at him in the eye, or even go as far as to call or speak to him. Ryan is never home, and when he is he's in his room, the Doctor, yes, Doctor, because for Graham he's lost the right to call her by the nickname he christened her. The same applies to Yasmin, only her friends and family can call her Yaz, Graham squandered that when he shot that blue bastard through the chest. He well and truly has no one, well, no one he truly wishes he could have back.</p><p>He's pushed his friends away, refused to answer the door when they knocked and ignored them in the street. They will soon stop bothering to see what is wrong, hell if they knew what he did they wouldn't even fret in the first place.</p><p>It's what he deserves for being a killer.</p><p>Graham exhales and refuses to give in to the tears that want to run down his cheeks. His hands seal the suitcase halfway, stopping when his eyes catch the photo of Ryan, himself, and Grace on holiday in Cornwall. Ryan looks far more interested in his phone; Grace looks as radiant as she always did. He disregards himself as he slides the photo out, clutching it in his shaking hand before slipping it into the case and finally sealing it up.</p><p>Shaky breath fills the silence of his bedroom as he takes one final look around it. This place, this house, has been his for the last few years, but it's no longer his, he threw that right in the trash when he took his misguided revenge to calm the raging in his body and soul.</p><p>It never calmed it, though; it just made everything worse.</p><p>Graham lowers his head and breathes, counting each one for the little comfort they give him. There is only one thing left to do: to collect his new jacket, one he hid from Ryan so it would be more difficult to track him. It's a style he's never worn, and thankfully as he's come to realise, it contains a magnitude of pockets. Easy to carry things like the new phone and wallet, his more recent cards, cards hopefully untrackable by the Doctor.</p><p>That's if she even looks in the first place, he doesn't hold any hope any of them will look for him, and maybe that is the best for all of them. He gets a fresh start with the cash he had in his bank account. They can wash their hands off him.</p><p>Everyone is happy.</p><p>It's for the best, after all. </p><p>They are better that way.</p><p>He is better that way.</p><p>If only that were the truth-</p><p>Graham takes in a deep breath as he picks up the case and pulls it from the bed and out of the room. He trudges down the stairs, praying that Ryan won't come back, and thankfully he doesn't. The suitcase joins the backpack by the front door while he grabs his new jacket, slipping it on and doing it up tightly. He pulls the cap from the pocket and his gloves. No one will look at him weirdly; it's cold out. Nice and chilly in the wintery air.</p><p>Once adjusted and with a glance in the mirror, Graham nods. The cap and hood cover him, his hands are hidden from view, the lack of having a good shave for a week works in his favour, and- and now he's ready to leave this chapter off his life.</p><p>For good.</p><p>Forever.</p><p>So, why is he pausing as he stares into the mirror, eyes locked on his drawn face? This is what he wants. A fresh start away from it all, away from the people he cares about who now hate and despise him. The tears threaten to fall again, and he chokes them back, spinning and collecting his case and backpack, throwing the hood up on his jacket as he goes.</p><p>"Come on, Graham," His voice comes out in a choked whisper. "Just gotta step through that door, that's all there is to it."</p><p>His hand extends towards the golden coloured handle, gripping it, feeling its hardness through his glove. It feels like a lead weight in his hands, something he has to force himself to push down and then out.</p><p>The winter air blasts Graham in the face the moment he steps from his warm house. He could still step back inside, unpack the case, return the jacket, but-</p><p>No.</p><p>Staying would cause the same issues, and he didn't go through this much effort over the last couple of weeks to give up now. With one final deep breath, he steps out from his house, shutting the door behind him with a satisfying clunk.</p><p>It's not a long walk to the train station, he can see it from where he's stood. It's a simple right turn, then down the winding path, past the amphitheatre and finally to the train station's bridge. His hand clasps his case tightly, and he begins his uncertain walk. Neighbours he always used to greet don't even look up, and if they do, they quickly go back to what they were doing, which is fine by him. Course, he could get the bus, making the trip a lot warmer, but showing what little of his face that he has on show would be far riskier considering he knows the guys who work on them.</p><p>Nah, the walk will do him good.</p><p>And it gives Graham a chance to consider where he's going to travel to. Essex is out of the question because that would be the obvious choice, he doesn't know enough about the South-West to consider it, plus it's far more expensive than the North, which restricts his options even further. Blackpool could work, but he's lived there before and doesn't much feel like doing it again. Any further North isn't what he wants; neither is another country, so Scotland is out.</p><p>Which only really leaves two places left for him to consider, Liverpool or Manchester, and that's a coin toss. </p><p>Heads for Liverpool, tails for Manchester.</p><p>The two-pence piece sits in the palm of his hand as he stops the short walk to the train station. It's like a burning piece of coal in his hand, screaming at him to stop, to go back and talk to them, try to make them understand why he did what he did, but- but his fear and self-loathing smacks it back into the bleak shadows of his mind.</p><p>'It's just a coin toss, that's all it is.' His internal voice speaks, pulling him further away from the edge and closer to the abyss. The tears in his eyes chill his cheeks when he blinks them away. He sucks in a deep breath and throws the coin, sealing the decision to leave in his mind.</p><p>Watching the coin fall through the air and back into his open palm feels like a lifetime and Graham can hardly look at what fate has decided for him.</p><p>Liverpool or Manchester.</p><p>Liverpool or-</p><p>Graham's eyes linger on the face of the queen staring back at him even though it isn't possible; it feels like even she is judging the blackness of his soul.</p><p>"Liverpool," Graham murmurs aloud and to himself, his voice raw with disuse.</p><p>It's decided then.</p><p>Liverpool is the new chapter of his life, his fresh start, his freedom, his-</p><p>Punishment?</p><p>Graham pulls out his old phone and unlocks it. There is probably enough battery for one call now. A call he doesn't want to make, but one he needs to. With another shaky breath, he selects the number, knowing that the lad will let it ring out instead of answering it, and quite frankly that works out well for him in the long run. It rings and rings and shortly goes to the answering machine, beeping and indicating the time for his message of regret. </p><p>"Hey, son- Ryan, I know you don't want to speak to me, and you don't have to 'cos I get it, I truly do, 'cos what I did was unforgivable," He exhales. "And I never expect you to forgive me for it, and I won't ask you to, but I just wanted you to know that I meant it when I said I was sorry, son," He speaks only to himself because that's all he has now even though the phone is connected to his grandsons. </p><p>He adjusts the case in his right hand. "And that you were right, that the Doc was right-" His tears finally drop from his wet eyes. "-but I can't change what I did, 'cos if I could, I would, I promise you that-" He explains, voice tumbling from his mouth. "-but for now, I just want you to have the best life you can, the house is yours, so's the car, I don't need it and I don't deserve it."</p><p>He leaves the line empty for a moment, taking the time he needs to find the courage to say what he needs to say. His eyes close.</p><p>"This will be it," Graham finally admits to himself. "You won't hear from me again which is for the best, and I'd prefer it if you just moved on and forgot about a monster like myself," He chokes on the sob in his throat. "And, uh, if you do care about me, even in the slightest bit, then don't, 'cos I'll be fine, so just- just live a good life, all right?"</p><p>The phone lowers from his ear as he ends the call.</p><p>That's it then.</p><p>That chapter is over.</p><p>Graham's eyes linger against the phone in his hand. Maybe he hopes it will spring to life with Ryan on the other end, willing to talk, but he knows it won't.</p><p>"See ya, son," Graham whispers as he drops the phone to the icy ground and restarts the short, but what feels like a long walk to the train station. Each step feels more challenging than the last, but he's doing this for them, not for himself.</p><p>Or that's what he tells himself anyway.</p><p>A sigh escapes from his mouth, and he wipes a gloved hand down his face, washing away the chilly tears. It would not do to look like he's been crying while he waits for the train.</p><p>His feet pad the final few steps to the railway bridge before stopping at the threshold. He could still turn back now, try to explain the message he left for Ryan away.</p><p>He doesn't.</p><p>Graham steps again, and he fights every urge in his body to turn back around to stare at the house he's called home for the last few years. It's hard, but he presses on forward, breathing out when he finally enters the station.</p><p>People pay him no mind as he walks towards the ticket machine. He dislikes these machines, something about taking away the human contact that one would have. Graham's pretty sure he ranted to Grace about it once, such a long time ago now. He's glad for the machines now, the lack of human contact means he can get his tickets in peace without running the risk of people remembering his features.</p><p>Only the machine needs a bank card, and yeah, he did get new ones, but without a name change, he still had to have his actual name on them. Graham runs a hand down his face. He needs to use cash for this, so that means human to human contact.</p><p>He angrily grabs his stuff again and marches towards the service desk, head low as he waits in the line. His eyes don't meet the person behind the counter as he steps forward to grunt out his request irritably. It's rude, and he wouldn't usually be this callous with someone just doing their job, or maybe he would now, after all, he's come to realise that killing someone is easy to him. It doesn't matter anyway, the woman behind the desk has probably dealt with her fair share of idiots, to her he's just another commuter with a disregard to her as a person.</p><p>But at his core, he isn't, and Graham sighs, finally looking up at the woman. "Sorry-"</p><p>She blinks in surprise, and if he weren't used to catching small expressions on faces, he would've missed it.</p><p>"-I didn't mean to be rude," Graham mutters. "Long day, you don't deserve my issue."</p><p>The woman, Joan, as he reads on her small nameplate, offers him a small smile. "Are you all right?" She asks with concern. "I don't mean to intrude."</p><p>"Yeah, fine," Graham glances away, regretting ever speaking to her now. "Or I will be fine," He hopes his eyes aren't still red, even they were he could perhaps blame it on the bitter weather outside. "Just want to get back home now, you know?" The lie slips from his lips without thinking.</p><p>"Liverpool?" Joan flicks her eyes towards the computer screen. "That's not a scouse accent-"</p><p>"Nah," Graham agrees. "Moved up here."</p><p>Joan hums and reaches for the printed tickets, slipping them into the little pocket under the screen. She waits for Graham to place his petty cash into it and turns it around. "I hope whatever happened gets better for you."</p><p>Graham locks his eyes on hers and swallows down the lump in his throat. "Ta," He whispers as he takes the tickets and makes a swift exit from the ticket office.</p><p>His eyes flick down to the platform number, and he begins making his way towards it. The train shouldn't be long now, if all goes to plan that is. Can't trust the rail industry. Oh, the days before it went all private, it cost a couple of quid to get into London from Essex, course, it would've gone up in price due to inflation, but if the trains were never sold off, Graham expects it wouldn't be as crap as it is.</p><p>The platform is chock-a-block, people in suits, others with cases like himself—rush hour. Graham slowly steps onto the platform to walk through it. He keeps his head lowered to the floor, before narrowing his eyes and glancing around. No one is paying him attention; he blends in with the others in thick coats and hats. As long as he stays within that group of people, he should be able to slip onto the incoming train without anyone noticing him. His eyes flick up to the departure board above.</p><p>Twenty minutes.</p><p>That's all his has to wait.</p><p>Easy.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi, me again, would've updated this earlier but work had me on quite a few days in a row</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The text came just before the end of his shift, and Ryan reluctantly pulled his phone out. He had already ignored one phonecall from Graham, but if the man has decided to text him, well, he can't exactly avoid that.</p><p>Thankfully, it's Yaz requesting to meet up with him in that small café just down the road from his house. He replies, asking if she can come and pick him up from the warehouse which she so gracefully sends back an eye-rolling emoji which he takes as a yes, she will come and pick him up.</p><p>He goes to pop his phone back into his pocket, but his eyes catch the notification at the top of his screen.</p><p>-One new answerphone message.</p><p>It's obvious the message is from Graham, no one else he knows leaves a message like that unless it's from the Doctor, but she's hardly talking to anyone at this moment in time. Too focused on her ship, always talking about repairs that need to be made. Yaz and him know she's avoiding the subject, hell, they're avoiding the subject as well because how can they talk about it?</p><p>'Oh, hey, Ryan, spoken to your murderous grandad today?'</p><p>Yeah, that'll be a fun conversation to have, wouldn't it?</p><p>No one expected that Graham would ever do something like that, always the one with the clear and level head, never showing an ounce that he was capable of killing someone, even if that someone was responsible for his Nan's death. God, he had such faith in Graham, the promise the older man gave him about leaving the moment he could, was just a...</p><p>...lie.</p><p>He stayed behind, refused to listen to anything Ryan told him, any of the warnings the Doctor gave him, and now everything has changed for the worst.</p><p>One decision and that's it.</p><p>It's just over.</p><p>Whatever they could've built together as a family went out of the window the moment Graham pulled that trigger. How can he ever trust the older man again?</p><p>Ryan remembers the first night he went back to the house after staying in the TARDIS. The older man stood awkwardly in the living room, his eyes unable to reach Ryan's. He mumbled out a sorry like a sorry would change what he did, and that was enough for Ryan, he turned and stomped upstairs, slamming his bedroom behind him.</p><p>And then Graham tried a few more times after that to start up a conversation, he even went as far to make dinner for the pair of them, and- and Ryan regrets what he did because he's not cruel. If his Nan saw what he did she would give him a telling off, or maybe she wouldn't, perhaps she'd be just as angry with Graham as he is, boot him out of the house or something. Still, the look on the older man's face when Ryan ignored the plate of food on the table sits within him like an indigestible rock.</p><p>Was it heartbreak?</p><p>A flicker of remorse briefly showing before being replaced by the expression that remained on Graham's face since that evening?</p><p>Or what it just neutrality?</p><p>Whatever it was, it doesn't exactly matter because, after that, Graham stopped trying, he grew distant, stayed in his bedroom, moved around at night and just- just avoided Ryan at all cost. They were like ships passing in the night. Graham learnt his schedule and did everything he needed to do while Ryan was out at work or with his friends, any other time, Ryan wouldn't even know he was in the house. His door remained shut, no sound leaving the room through the cracks in the door.</p><p>It was just silence like Graham died along with his Nan.</p><p>And maybe he did, a long time ago, the final nail in the coffin being the creature he saw in Norway, taunting him of what he could've had if he stayed with the shallow version of his Nan.</p><p>Ryan glances down at his phone once more, frowning at the message at the top of his screen. His fingers flick to it, intending to answer it and for the first time in the last few weeks, listen to what his grand- to what Graham has to say for himself. He pulls the phone up before lowering it again when he spots Yaz turning down the street to his place of work. His eyes flick to the phonecall to his answering machine, and he decides to end it.</p><p>Whatever Graham wanted to say can wait for a bit longer, let him stew on it.</p><p>"Hey," Yaz calls out from her driver side window. "How was work?"</p><p>Ryan shrugs as he makes his way towards her car, shoving his phone back into his pocket as he goes. "Work was work, boring, and long," He answers. "You wanted to go to that café?"</p><p>"Yeah, uh," Yaz's hands tighten on her steering wheel. "We haven't had a catch up for a few days."</p><p>"Mhm," Ryan belts himself into the passenger seat. "And I haven't had breakfast," He glances towards her. "Are you paying?"</p><p>"Ryan," Yaz scowls at him. "You have a job-"</p><p>"But you get paid more than I do-" Ryan looks at her pleadingly. "Also-"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>Ryan scrunches his nose up. "I left my wallet at home."</p><p>"So, go and get it-" The moment the words leave Yaz's mouth she grimaces. "Sorry-"</p><p>"Nah, it's cool," Ryan mumbles, eyes darting away to look outside. It's muddy and wet, kind of like all of their moods. "He's the elephant in the room; we can't not talk about him."</p><p>"Or maybe a wounded lion," Yaz looks away as well, and awkward silence follows them for a brief moment. "How is he?"</p><p>"I dunno-"</p><p>"Ryan-"</p><p>Ryan huffs out a sharp breath and turns to face Yaz, eyes widened, and face twisted in frustration. "He doesn't speak to me now, you know I refused the meal he made me?" Yaz nods and her face says it all for him. "Yeah, well, ever since then he's retreated like a scared cat, refusing to come out from under the fridge, the fridge being his bedroom that is."</p><p>He runs a hand down his face and sighs again. "He's also left me a message on my phone, haven't listened to it yet, don't know if I want to."</p><p>"I can't say whether you should or not," Yaz replies in a quiet tone. "I was as surprised as you were, mate, I didn't even know he was considering it."</p><p>"Yeah, well," Ryan looks back at Yaz. "Neither did I until the Doctor put us together to go and save those people," He groans angrily. "Why she didn't force him back to the TARDIS I will never know, Yaz, why did she put it on me to change his stupid mind? 'Cos now it feels like it's my fault he chose to kill that bastard like I failed to convince him-"</p><p>"I don't think she thought he would ever do something like that, Ryan," Yaz admits, hands gripping at the steering wheel again. "He helped me in regards to my Nani, spoke to me about a lot of things, made me feel better, but then he shot Tzim-Sha-" Her voice differs away. "-why don't we just go and have breakfast and then we'll decide what to do with his message, all right?"</p><p>Ryan nods, accepting her terms. "As long as you are the one paying 'cos I kinda don't wanna see him, well, not until I have listened to whatever it is that he has to say, that is."</p><p>"So, you will listen to it?" Yaz questions.</p><p>"Yeah, just not now, Yaz, not when I'm tired from work and hungry," Ryan nods. "And I'd rather you be there as well, so we can both see what he has to tell us."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"You all right there, pet?" Graham startles at the sudden voice from above him. He blinks at the woman, mouth opening and closing a few times in the process as he thinks. "I didn't mean to make you jump; you just looked a bit lost."</p><p>Graham clears his throat. "I, uh-" He places his lukewarm cuppa down on the table and adjusts his cap and glasses. "-I was in a world of me own." He murmurs. "Things on my mind."</p><p>"I could tell," The woman smiles kindly at him. "You've been staring at that bleeding phone for the better part of an hour, hardly touched your tea-"</p><p>Graham glances towards the tea and then up to the woman stood next to him. She served him when he first entered this café, a small place, morning rush of builders and office workers have now gone until lunchtime.</p><p>Perfect.</p><p>Or so he thought.</p><p>The woman tilts her head to the side, brows furrowing under her hairnet. "Are you looking for something?" She questions and Graham groans internally. "That's not a scouser accent, sound like one of them southerners-"</p><p>"Yeah, yeah," Graham mutters again. He keeps his hand on his face, trying and failing to hide as much of it as he can from her. "Just looking for places to stay, something cheap."</p><p>The woman's eyes widen just as her head snaps to the back of the café. "Sharon, love," She calls out. "Ain't your Martin got that BnB-"</p><p>"Dawn," A crotchety voice exits from the kitchen, soon followed by a head of greying hair poking through the square window. "I told you before he ain't my-" She trails away when she spots Graham sat awkwardly in his seat.</p><p>"This bloke is looking for a place to stay," Dawn helpfully informs Sharon. "And I was gonna say that your Martin-"</p><p>"Not my Martin-"</p><p>"Yes, yes," Dawn hand waves through the air. "As I was saying, this bloke-"</p><p>Graham glances between the two women. It's just his luck, isn't it? He would've loved to have a natter in a local café like this at any other point in his life, but as of right now, this is the last place he really wants to be.</p><p>"Look, love the stay and have a natter, but I probably should be going-" Graham states as he begins getting up, grabbing everything that he placed around him as he does. "-busy day and all-"</p><p>"One moment, before you go," Sharon calls out before vanishing from her window. There is a rattle in the hidden kitchen, and before long, the older woman is hobbling out from the kitchen with a leaflet in her hand. "Dawn is right, not about Martin, mind, but about the BnB-" She holds the leaflet out to Graham. "-it's good rates even if Martin is a swine-"</p><p>Graham nods, accepting the leaflet from her reluctantly. "Ta, I'll have a look into it," He hates the taste of lies on his lips, but what he hates more is how they easily fall from them now. "Deffo will 'cos it sounds right up my alley, cheers." He nods his head at them and with a quick check that he has everything he makes a brief, but steady exit, wincing when he hears one of them call him a lovely man.</p><p>If only they knew the truth behind that.</p><p>No, he won't think about it for the moment. He can mope when he has a place to stay for the night.</p><p>Graham's eyes flick up and down the street, frowning as he looks around. They focus on a bin further down the road, and he makes his way towards it, throwing the leaflet away and continuing onwards. As much as that would've worked for him, the last thing he needs is people recognising him; this will be hard enough as it is without making it easier for people to find him.</p><p>His legs take him wherever because he doesn't really have anywhere to go, now there were a few places he spotted by himself, but they're out of his budget for the time being, and well, it's not a permanent thing. He just needs to stay in one until he can get a job somewhere, something that gives him cash in hand, then he can rent a one-bedroom flat or something, yeah, sounds like a good plan.</p><p>His hand runs down his face again, rubbing at his left temple, trying to work the migraine that has formed in his head away. It won't do to start eating into his limited supply of medicine right now, not when he doesn't know if he'll be able to get more. At least he should be all right for a while, those injections he received on that alien planet did the trick for that illness he got.</p><p>What was it again? Honestly, he can't remember, the Doc- no, the Doctor spoke a mile a minute, rattled off some scary details about growing fur and becoming a monster or something, but a few shots of whatever sorted him right out. Even fixed some of his other issues, so at least there is that.</p><p>But none of that actually helps him right now, does it? Graham pulls his phone out again and glares at it when it tells him his battery is low. He flicks through his options again and picks the cheapest. It's probably crap, and the breakfast will no doubt give him food poisoning or something like that, but really, what choice does he have right now? It's this or camping out on the street in the beginning stages of winter, and Graham knows what he'd rather do for tonight.</p><p>And that's staying in a warm bed, alone and by himself.</p><p>No family, no friends.</p><p>It's what he deserves.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, so there is someone in this story now, but I'll explain more about them at the bottom, so I don't spoil it up here.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"This is you-" Graham's eyes flick around the tiny room. It's not that bad for the price, two single beds, a window overlooking the back alleys that are popular for a northern city. "-breakfast is between seven and ten, no earlier, no later, you sleep in, you miss it. If you're not back by ten at night, you won't be coming back in until morning."</p><p>Graham returns his eyes to his hostess, a diminutive woman far older than he is. "Noted," He murmurs as he steps into the room, dropping his case next to a bed. All things considered, she's not the rudest hostess he's ever met. "Nice room."</p><p>She huffs like his mere presence is causes her hassle. "And there will be no funny business," She instructs in a voice that reminds Graham of his old school teacher. "No loud music, definitely none of that rubbish they play nowadays, and no television past eleven; I need my sleep."</p><p>Graham bites back on the sarcastic comment wishing to slip from his mouth; instead, he just smiles at the older woman before dropping it the moment she leaves him alone.</p><p>"It's cheap, Graham," He says aloud with a shake of his head. "Well, no bloody wonder it's cheap if that's the bleeding owner; I've dealt with drunks on a Friday night with better manners, ain't that right-" His mouth clamps shut.</p><p>Thankfully, his phone buzzing in his pocket reminds him why he came here straight away. He pulls out his charger from his backpack and quickly shoves it on charge before slumping down on the bed and switching the television on.</p><p>Any distraction will do.</p><p>It's just coming up to one in the afternoon now, so he'll be able to catch the news, maybe have a shower and trim his weeks worth of beard. He idly scratches at it as his eyes fixate on the television. It's the last fifteen minutes of Bargain Hunt, not a program Graham would typically choose, but perfect for background noise while he showers and changes out of his layers.</p><p>Graham pulls himself up from the bed with a groan and shoves off his coat and outer layers, throwing them to the floor with the intention to pick them up later. Grace would've told him to pick them up now, but she ain't here, she's never gonna be here again.</p><p>But at least her killer is dead.</p><p>He pushes that thought away and proceeds into the bathroom; It's basic, nothing special or fancy, and quite tiny, but it'll bloody well do. At least it's got warm water and bog roll, pretty much luxury for Graham right now. He ignores the dirt stuck between some of the tiles; best not to think about it as he climbs in and turns on the showerhead.</p><p>The water is a rhythmic drumbeat on his back; he never did have a shower before he left his home- no, his, well, Ryan's home, yeah, Ryan's home. There wasn't a chance to have one, and he had most of what he needed already packed, too much of a hassle to get it all out again just for one poxy shower.</p><p>And by having a shower here, it almost feels like he's washing the stench of Sheffield away from him, watching it as it swirls in the drain before disappearing into the pipes.</p><p>It also hides the tears that have decided to escape from him again as he slides down to the floor, arms wrapping around his legs and pulling them close. The water thrashes against his head, pushing his hair onto his face. This is what he wanted, a fresh start, a new life with people who don't hate him.</p><p>So, why is he still struggling with the decision he made? It's better for everyone involved.</p><p>Graham rubs a hand over his eyes and rests his head against the tiles. "Good job, Graham son," He's growing accustomed to talking to himself now. "Go and have a shower and cry while doing it, you idiot," He snorts before sighing and picking himself back up from the floor of the shower carefully.</p><p>It won't do to slip and have that hostess find his body; she'd probably take his money while dumping him out on the street for 'funny business' or something daft.</p><p>He runs his hands through his hair, washing out any traces of soap that might remain before stepping out into the cold bathroom, the cool air chilling the water on his skin.</p><p>"Right, towel," Graham glances around the bathroom and spots the towels folded neatly, and he feels a pang of guilt because the towels are pressed and clean along with most of the bathroom. He can hardly say his- no, the bathroom back in Sheffield was as spick and span as this. "You really are a twat, aren't you, Graham?" He grunts, grabbing the towel and wrapping it around himself. He grabs another smaller one, rubbing it against his hair before letting it rest across his shoulders.</p><p>He stands in the bathroom for a moment, calming down his raging thoughts with steady breaths.</p><p>And if he's timed it right, the news should've started about now. It'll be good to see what is going on in Liverpool, find out the goss and all that crap, or something.</p><p>Graham settles himself back onto his bed and lazily watches the news anchors reading the latest with the emotional range of a rotten orange. Nothing changes then, nothing at all between the stations. It's about two depressing stories, a light-hearted one about some builder somewhere doing something nice for someone else that Graham never paid attention to, the weather, rain and more rain, and then it's over, and Graham has gone back to sitting in a room where the only entertainment is daytime television.</p><p>God, he'd rather watch paint dry instead of Homes Under the Hammer. The only Hammers' he cares about are situated down south and are currently halfway down the league.</p><p>Graham sighs and rests his head in his hands. Has he really turned into a miserable old man already? If his dad were still around, Graham would be sure that the tosser had come back and possessed him or something equally stupid.</p><p>Did shooting that bastard, watching him fall back to the floor in a heap, revealing Ryan stood in the doorway behind, eyes widened and horrified, change him so much? Or was he always like this? A persona so carefully hidden that he didn't even know he had it in him to kill?</p><p>The memories of that day sting and burn in his mind—the smell of burnt flesh lingers in his nose—the sound of Ryan shouting, his accusation, disownment drums in his ears—and the feel of Ryan's fist against his face aches enough for him to rest his palm against it, swaying into the pressure like a touch starved animal.</p><p>"Come on," Graham whispers, pleading internally for the memories to head back into his nightmares. They will eventually, he'll wake up with a jolt tonight, chest heaving in terror as his eyes speed around the room looking for danger. His hands shake, heat crawls up his spine like a snake on a branch looking for a spot in the sun. "Get it together, you idiot-" He spits out, willing the flashing panic to calm down. "-stupid, selfish-"</p><p>Graham pulls his hands away from his face and clenches them as he forces his eyes onto the television, jaw squeezed shut. This isn't the first time he's freaked out, and this won't be the last.</p><p>So, he'll watch television for a bit, calm down, get changed, and then head to the shops and pick up whatever food he can from the reduced section, which should be after five in the afternoon for the good deals, and after seven for the best deals.</p><p>14p for a loaf of bread? Who could argue about that price, course, he'll just be eating a loaf 'cos it's not like he'll be able to-</p><p>Graham ceases that thought in a flash when the door to his bedroom swings open. He yelps when he sees the hostess from before leading a stranger into his bedroom.</p><p>"What do you-" Graham's voice catches in a wobble, his heart racing from his fear. "This is my-"</p><p>"Your roommate," She cuts him off in a brisk tone. "It's in the contract you signed, My O'Brien."</p><p>Graham frowns at her while trying to keep himself decent. "I booked this room-" His eyes flicker to the stranger, glad that he at least seems to be far more interested in the curtains than the naked man wrapped in towels on his bed having a panic attack.</p><p>"You did," The woman, god, he should've really learnt her name, replies. "But so did Mr Baldwin here; there are two beds for two guests," Her voice is stern. "I need the money, so share or leave."</p><p>"But that's not-" Graham begins to say. "-fine," He decides to go with instead. It's not like he's planning on staying here long term; this is just temporary until he can find something else.</p><p>"Good," The hostess nods while Graham tunes out the rules and order she lists off to his new roommate. His eyes flick over the man, light blondish-brown hair, scraggy and thin, like he hasn't had a decent meal in a while, but clean-shaven at least. It distracts him, gives him something to focus on.</p><p>Graham waits for the older woman to leave again before he decides to get up. "Right, well-" He sways on his feet and manages to make it look intentional due to the towels. "-I'm going to and get decent."</p><p>"I didn't know someone would be staying in this room when I got here," The stranger speaks in a low voice. "So, don't go thinking I did and I'm some sort of weirdo who-"</p><p>"I didn't," Graham blinks at the younger man; well, he thinks younger, by a few years at least. "Uh-" He glances down at his towels, reddening when he realises he's currently stood in a room stark naked with only a towel covering his junk. "-get settled in then, I'm gonna get changed-"</p><p>The man grunts in response while Graham rushes to the bathroom, grabbing clothes quickly from his case. He roughly dries himself off and gets changed into them like he's running late for an appointment at the hospital.</p><p>He slowly edges out from the bathroom, eyes keenly watching the man shove his case and bags on the other bed.</p><p>"You changed now?" The man asks. "Can I turn around?"</p><p>"Uh, yeah," Graham slaps his hands against his legs. "Sorry, you had to see me in my birthday suit."</p><p>The man turns around and shrugs. "You had a towel on," He states. "Look, sorry about this, mate, 'cos she did tell me she had someone in the room already, but I was desperate for a place to stay tonight, so I agreed to share it, and it was cheap-"</p><p>Graham presses his mouth into a thin line. He's not happy with this development, but taking a closer look at the stranger, he feels like he shares a connection with him, something that he can't quite put his finger on just yet. "I'm, uh, Graham-" He extends his hand out towards him. "The last name you know 'cos the old bat said it."</p><p>"Danny," The stranger reveals, grabbing the offered hand and giving it a firm shake. "You're not from Liverpool."</p><p>"Neither are you," Graham points out. "Essex?"</p><p>"Watford," Danny corrects. "Close enough, though."</p><p>"Yeah," Graham murmurs, suddenly feeling the awkward tension in the room increasing. "Have you eaten?" He blurts out without thinking. It's his innate need to talk overriding his brain and better senses. "Cos I was gonna go out and get some scran."</p><p>"Today?" Danny snorts; the sound is mirthless and lingers in Graham's mind, making him zone in on it again. "No, and if you ask whether I ate yesterday, then the answer would also be no."</p><p>"Oh," Graham shuffles on his feet. "Why not?"</p><p>Danny raises an eyebrow at Graham. "That's a bit personal, ain't it?"</p><p>"Well," Graham shrugs and heads over to his phone, picking it up and checking the charge as he does. "We're sharing a room, and I just wanted to get to know you a bit-"</p><p>Danny raises an eyebrow at Graham. "I ain't gonna kill you in the night if that is what you're-" The other man stutters when he sees Graham flinch. "-thinking about," His head tilts. "Are you going to kill me?"</p><p>Graham snaps his head to Danny. "No, why would you think I would kill?" He demands with a frown. "I don't kill people," The lie feels like acid upon his tongue that is trickling down his throat, constricting him from the inside.</p><p>Danny's eyes widen, and his mouth presses into a flat line as he turns around to his case. "Well, if you are gonna kill me, can you make it quick or like push me from the roof?" He snorts. "The roof sounds quite good actually-"</p><p>"What?" Graham blinks at the strangers back, baffled. "Do you just run your mouth before letting your brain think about what you're going to say?"</p><p>"I'm not serious," Danny glances behind himself. "Unless you are-" He smirks and sighs. "Gallows humour, ignore me, I ain't a danger, and I don't think you are as well, we're just two people who probably fell on hard times, and that's why we're staying in a shitty bed and breakfast with a woman that reminds me of the battleaxe that lived near the pub on my old street," He nods at Graham. "We're cushty, all right?</p><p>"Yeah," Graham narrows his eyes at Danny. "We're cushty."</p><p>Danny nods again before slumping down on his bed. "You watching this?" He gestures towards the television, and Graham follows his gaze. "Cos I'm not."</p><p>"No," Graham answers as he sits on his side of the room. "But there is nothing else on."</p><p>"Not even footie?" Danny looks at Graham. "Give me the remote."</p><p>"I seriously doubt Fanny Cradock down there has the sports channels, but you're welcome to have a look through them," He tosses the other man the remote and settles himself into a comfier position on his bed.</p><p>The television tunes out from Graham's mind as he picks up his phone to continue his task of searching for a more permanent place to stay, maybe even a job if he can find something that pays cash in hand.</p><p>But the one issue he's finding is that each house he's looking at requires a reference or a bill or some other piece of crap that he left back in Sheffield, and he can't help the audible groan of frustration escaping his lips.</p><p>"You all right there, Gazza?" Danny asks without so much of a glance.</p><p>"It's Graham-"</p><p>Danny grunts in response before finally looking over. "Phone troubles?"</p><p>"Nah," Graham responds with annoyance. "Doesn't matter, should head out now before Fanny Cradock gets an idea in her head about us pulling out weight around here or something."</p><p>"We can say no."</p><p>"And then she'll boot us out for funny business in case you weren't listening to her list of rules on your way up and into this room."</p><p>"Good point," Danny pulls himself off his bed and gestures towards the door. "Well, lead on, then-" Graham frowns at the other man. "-you asked if I ate, which made it sound like you were going to buy me dinner-"</p><p>"I didn't-" Graham shakes his head. "-why can't you buy your own dinner?"</p><p>"If I could buy my own dinner, then I wouldn't be staying in this dank place, would I? I'd be staying in a nice five-star hotel, champagne on ice," He sighs wistfully. "But when your best mate royally screws you over, taking every bloody thing you have, including your wife in the process, then you have to settle for dank instead of luxury, now-" Danny claps his hands together. "-dinner?"</p><p>"If by dinner, you mean the reduced section in Tesco, then yeah-" Graham rolls his eyes and begins heading towards the bedroom door. "-I'm buying you dinner."</p><p>"Great," Danny walks forward and claps his hands on Graham's back. "I have no idea what you've done to end up in a place like this, but I can tell you one thing," He lets Graham's shoulders go. "We're going to be great friends, and look, I don't have a wife or savings that you can take, so that won't even be a problem now, see? We're already doing better than before."</p><p>Graham pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales.</p><p>So, this will either work out great, and he'll have a mate, well, an annoying mate, but a mate nonetheless-</p><p>-or-</p><p>He'll commit another bloody murder and get sent to one of her majesty prisons, but hey, at least he'll have a bleeding roof over his head.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Danny Baldwin is a character that Bradley Walsh played in another show that I just got massively into; now, yeah, the name matches that character, and so does 'some' of the backstory to him, but I've changed a lot.</p><p>the reason I'm using him as a character is that I still have this weird thing with writing at the moment, and I'm not sure I would be able to build an OC up from scratch, and because Danny is technically a character that no one but me and a few others really talk about then most people won't actually know who he is, and he'll feel like an OC</p><p>In terms of what he looks like? Well, I have my own version in my head, but considering that Bradley Walsh himself exists in the Whoniverse and no one asks Graham for an autograph, then Danny can just look like Danny.</p><p>But whatever anyone pictures are also correct.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The others will play a part in this, but as you can gather, the nudge in this timeless is Graham shooting and killing Tzim-Sha in Ranskoor Av Kolos.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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